Beautiful Disaster
by windlily
Summary: Matsumoto is a beautiful disaster. [implied HitsuMatsu]


Inspired by and named after the song, "Beautiful Disaster" by John Mclaughlin.

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"_She would change everything for happy ever after_

_Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster_

_And she just needs someone to take her home"_

_John Mclaughlin_

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**Beautiful Disaster**

* * *

It was official.

Life sucked. And she sucked at it.

Rhetorically speaking, anyway. Technically, she wasn't even alive anymore.

She didn't even have that much left to cling to.

And Matsumoto Rangiku didn't know how much more of it she could take. Hitsugaya-taichou was in a coma, nearly killed by the man he had once admitted to her he actually aspired toward. Gin had run off with Aizen, betrayed them all - betrayed _her_ - for a man comparable to Lucifer in his penchant for deceit. Even the Chamber 46, the very law of Soul Society, had been infiltrated, used, and tossed aside as so much garbage. Everything she had ever had any faith in seemed to be tumbling down around her.

The moment she chose to resist Ichimaru Gin, the moment she held her blade to the first man she had ever loved, she had already known there would be no turning back. But then, Seireitei had been in such an uproar that she had had no time to think. She had followed her taichou to the Chamber 46, battled Kira, seen the traitors leave in all of their shining and yet sickening glory, and then had returned to that.

_That._

Her taichou lying motionless, tubes and needles mocking his usual steel core as they punctured his pale skin and a large gash running clear down the length of his body marring what little self-esteem he had ever truly held within his own mind.

Every word uttered to her felt like a sick joke. Every thing people around her did felt like a twisted nightmare. The fact that people could keep walking, that people could act like nothing had happened. That they could get up in the morning and go about business as usual.

It killed her.

She could feel herself dieing piece by piece as the second hand ticked on each day.

It killed her that they expected her to do the same.

They handed paperwork to her as if they didn't even realize her taichou's desk was empty. They waved to her, bowed to her, talked to her as if she was perfectly fine.

She was expected to be some sort of Wonder Woman. She was the one who always bounced back, who always cheered everyone up, who always smiled and laughed and joked even when times were tough. She was a fukutaichou of the Gotei 13. She was supposed to be able to manage the division, bring back the order that had been lost. She was expected to overcome every single shortcoming.

After all, she was Matsumoto Rangiku. And she could handle anything.

Matsumoto Rangiku could out-drink anyone below taichou level and manage to stay semi-sober while she was at it.

Matsumoto Rangiku was always there when someone needed to talk and always knew exactly what to say to help them laugh again.

Matsumoto Rangiku could take any insult and respond with double the efficiency and triple the effectiveness.

And, most of all, Matsumoto Rangiku did not cry.

But with Gin gone, her taichou between life and death, and her trust in everyone shot to pieces, she could not bring herself to stand up and walk.

She was no longer Matsumoto Rangiku.

She was a disaster.

A completely useless disaster.

And now there was no one left to be _her_ Matsumoto Rangiku.

She wished she could take it all back. That time would reverse itself, bring her back to the way it used to be. She wished she could just shrink away, abandon the world and everyone in it. They wouldn't miss her. What had she done to be missed? A few choice teases and one or two one-night-stands? Even if they would miss her, she didn't want to be here. She wanted to be anywhere _but_ here. Anywhere. Hell would be better. At least there she wouldn't have to see them all. She wouldn't have to watch them, one by one, return to their daily lives, leaving her behind.

Everyone left her behind.

Ichimaru Gin. Hitsugaya-taichou. Kira Izuru. Hinamori Momo.

Everyone.

Even the people still here were leaving her behind, further and further with each step they took forward.

But she couldn't follow. Her legs were like lead, chained and locked in the corner. And time seemed to have paused for her. She wished it would just end. Then there wouldn't be this nauseating feeling that everything was still continuing without her. There wouldn't be any feeling at all.

On more than one occasion, she had fingered that chain around her neck and wondered if it could be used for another purpose altogether. In fact, she watched as her fingers wrapped around it at that very moment, feeling the fine metal and contemplating whether it would hold her weight or simply snap before she could put it to use.

The office was depressing her far more than it should have been. The empty desk before her, covered in unfinished paperwork and forms to be signed. The door, through which no one dared enter unless he had to. The couch in the center of the room that she couldn't bring herself to sit on knowing that she wouldn't be scolded for it. The window, closed and blinded because she didn't want to see outside and because she didn't want people to see inside either.

Then, slowly but deliberately, the door creaked open. She didn't bother looking up, only pointing to the already over-laden desk. When, after some time, no one had shut the door to leave, she finally resolved to see who it was.

She couldn't believe it.

There, standing right in front of her, was Hitsugaya-taichou. Bandaged, bruised, and battered, but awake, alive. He stared at her expectantly for another moment or two, then turned around and began walking out.

One foot at a time, as if in a daze, she stood up and wordlessly followed.

"Let's go, Matsumoto."

"Hai, Taichou."

And, suddenly, she was Matsumoto Rangiku again.

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End

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End file.
